


Get Up, I Still Have Friends Who Want to Use You

by Moons_of_Avalon



Series: NonCon Trash (Brock has Bad Times because he is my Trash Son) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gang Rape, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 06:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9371330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_of_Avalon/pseuds/Moons_of_Avalon
Summary: Brock was Anatoli's prison bitch, and now he's the personal sex slave of anyone Anatoli decides to hand him over to, whether he likes it or not





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually considering a prequel to this one, about Brock being Anatoli's bitch in prison, but until then, have this trash
> 
> translation note: "miliy" translation to "sweetheart" or "treasure", and Tolya is a diminutive of Anatoli

“Get up. I still have friends who want to use you.”

Brock whines, the words barely registering as a flood of light from the newly open door covers him. He tries to curl up, burying himself in the fur on Anatoli’s bed, away from the offending brightness, but that does little good. He can hear Anatoli crossing the room, his expensive shoes singing as they move across the wooden floor.

“I said get up!” he snaps. Brock winces when a firm hand grabs his arm, dragging him into a sitting position. The world swims in front of Brock’s eyes before his gaze finally fixes on Anatoli, towering over him with a stern frown on his face. “You’re a mess.”

Brock whimpers at the disdain in Anatoli’s voice, his vision swirling and blurring again as he leans forward to rest his cheek against Anatoli’s chest. He doesn’t remember having that much to drink…Anatoli probably slipped him something. He does that sometimes, for these kinds of parties, just to help Brock loosen up.

“Tolya, I’m tired,” he whines. Anatoli fucked him before people began arriving, and he’s already had two men share him, one in his ass and one in his mouth. Anatoli had watched the whole time, making sure the men had enjoyed their party favor. Maybe there had been more after that, but Brock doesn’t remember, only vaguely recalls stumbling back into the bedroom, naked, with a sore throat and aching hips.

“I don’t keep you here just so you can lounge around and look pretty,” Anatoli snaps, grabbing Brock by the hair despite how the younger man cries out. “Speaking of which, where are those nice, new clothes I bought you for tonight?”

“I-I don’t know,” he answers. “They took them off a-and I d-don’t know…”

Anatoli shakes his head, dropping Brock back on the bed and heading into the bathroom, returning with a silk robe moments later.

“Here, this will have to do” he says tossing the robe over Brock, who picks it up with shaky hands. He tries to put it on, but the holes for his arms keep twisting and shifting, disappearing into the fabric and reappearing seconds later…

Anatoli growls something in Russian, tearing the robe away from him and somehow managing to untangle it. He grabs Brock’s arms one after another to shove them into the right holes and even ties the robe shut, while Brock’s hands struggle to find purchase on Anatoli’s shirt.

“Thank you,” Brock whispers, and Anatoli raises an eyebrow at him. “I couldn’t find the holes, they kept moving and–”

“It’s alright.” Anatoli’s voice is softer suddenly, and Brock moans when the man kisses his forehead, cupping his face tenderly. “I know you’re tired, but I need you to take care of a couple more friends of mine. I told them all about you, and they’re very excited to see how sweet you can be.” 

Brock whines softly and shakes his head. He doesn’t even know if he can stand, let alone take more men. He cries out when Anatoli’s hands squeeze his arms, dragging him out of the bed.

“ _Miliy_ ,” he purrs, and Brock raises his head at the sound of the Russian petname Anatoli uses for him. “This is very important to me. I do a lot to keep you safe here, and sometimes I need a little help from you in return. So stop this whining and come with me.”

Brock bites his tongue to hold back another complaint, doing his best to stumble along at Anatoli’s side as they exit the bedroom. He groans at the bright lights, and when they reach the stairs, he only makes it down one before collapsing, the world spinning around him again, making his head throb.

Anatoli just picks him up effortlessly, cradling Brock against his chest as he carries him the rest of the way down. Brock hears the sound of men laughing and glasses clinking together, and prepares himself to be set down.

Wolf whistles fill the air, and Brock feels Anatoli chuckle seconds before his feet hit the floor. Anatoli holds him up as his body sways and his vision blurs, and he hears Russian words that he doesn’t understand floating around him. 

When his vision clears, the first thing he sees is that there are at least ten men in the room, not just “a couple”. He wants to whine, but reminds himself that most of them are probably just there to watch. 

He feels someone grab his face, squeezing tightly as his head is tipped from side to side. His vision zeros in on a man, older than Anatoli and not quite as tall. He’s nodding, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he seems pleased with Brock.

“Take good care of him, _miliy_ ,” Anatoli whispers into his ear, and Brock tries to nod as he feels his robe being pulled away. He’s tugged forward and pushed to his knees while the older man sits in front of him on the couch, one hand in Brock’s hair, the other pulling down his zipper. Brock doesn’t hesitate when the man’s cock is revealed to him, taking it in his mouth and beginning to suck. He hears groans of appreciation and closes his eyes, doing his best to focus and get this right. He can’t be boring, or slip up with his teeth. Of course Anatoli’s always there to make sure none of the men hurt him, but he’s not always fast enough to stop the first hit.

The older man’s cock takes a little while to get fully hard, but Brock does his best even so, and soon his hair’s being tugged and he has to fight the urge to pull back when the man starts thrusting down his throat. He coughs and chokes when bitter cum coats his tongue, but swallows all the same, panting when he’s shoved back. 

It’s only a few seconds before he’s grabbed again, this time by a different man; this one’s closer to Anatoli’s age and height, but blond. Brock almost puts up a fight, until he remembers that Anatoli had said ‘a couple’ men. He lets out a heavy sigh as he’s thrown on his back over an ottoman, and his legs are pushed into the air. One more, and then his Tolya will let him rest.

He cries out when the blond shoves into him, his thrusts hard and quick. The other men in the room seem to enjoy hearing him make noise, so he doesn’t hold back, whimpering and crying as he’s used.

The men always take longer when they’re in front of a crowd than they would alone, Brock’s learned that much, so he doesn’t fight it when this man seems to take forever. When heat finally fills him and the blond man steps away, he lets himself moan and slide to the floor. 

More hands on him, Anatoli’s of course. Brock closes his eyes as he’s pulled up, only to have them fly open when he’s pinned down yet again.

The man over him isn’t Anatoli, and he’s trying to push Brock’s legs apart. Brock wails, shoving at the man’s massive chest. No, he can’t! Tolya said–

He freezes when he sees the man’s hand raise, preparing himself for a hit, but before it can come down, Anatoli is grasping the man’s wrist, muttering something to him in Russian. The man scoffs but steps back, and Brock lets out a happy whimper as he reaches up for Anatoli.

He screams when the back of Anatoli’s hand whips across his face, hard enough that he surely would be crumpled on the floor right now were it not for the hand gripping painfully to his arm.

“Don’t make trouble.”

Brock whimpers at Anatoli’s growl, tears springing into his eyes as he cups his aching cheek.

“B-but you said…” he whimpers, almost silenced by Anatoli’s frown. “Y-you said only a couple…n-not all–”

Anatoli cuts him off with a sigh, and tears begin to pour down Brock’s cheeks as the realization that he’s misunderstood settles in. 

“Forgive me, for not being clearer,” Anatoli says. “English is not my first language after all. But I need you to be sweet for me and take care of my friends, no throwing fits.”

Brock shakes his head, tears blurring his vision. “No,” he begs. He’s already so sore and dizzy, he can’t handle more. “Tolya, please, I can’t…it’s too much–AH!”

Anatoli’s squeezing his arm again, hard enough that Brock knows he’ll have bruises in the morning. “I said, don’t make trouble,” he hisses, and Brock falls to quiet weeping while Anatoli’s grip softens again, stroking down his arm. “Do this for me, _miliy_. You have the rest of the week to sleep until noon and do whatever you like, but I need you to do this for me now.”

Brock whimpers again, but doesn’t put up a fight when Anatoli pushes him onto his back. 

“Just spread your legs and take it like a good whore,” he purrs, and Brock does his best to nod. He flinches when the large man, third in line, moves over him again, and shrieks when he pushes inside him with no mercy.

The men begin to blur together after that. Some use him mouth until he’s retching, other take his ass, pinning his legs and stretching his back and hips until he cries out and begs for them to be gentler. Sometimes two go at once, and sometimes they share his hole. Brock just lets himself cry and scream as he’s thrown around the room and used by man after man after man. He’s pretty sure he calls Tolya’s name more than once, and he’s pretty sure everyone in the room finds it funny except for him, but maybe that’s just his imagination.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, doesn’t know how many men use him, how many go more than once. The whole night is blurs of color and smears of black, until nothingness overtakes him.

When he wakes up, he’s in Anatoli’s bed, and there’s light peeking through the window. Before he’s even fully opened his eyes, Anatoli’s lips are pressing against his forehead.

“Good morning, _miliy_.”

Brock tries to reply, but finds his throat sore and dry, and all he can do is croak out a pitiful sound. Anatoli laughs softly, pulling the blankets back and leaning across Brock to grab a bottle of water.

“Sit up, you need to drink something.”

Brock does his best, but ends up curled in Anatoli’s arms when the ache in his lower body won’t let him move more than a few inches. Anatoli just cradles him, pressing a bottle of water to his lips so he can take small sips.

“Does your head hurt?” Anatoli asks. Brock nods, coughing slightly before trying to speak.

“E-everything hurts,” he mumbles.

Anatoli chuckles, stroking Brock’s arm. “Well you did have a long night last night, so maybe that’s to be expected.”

Brock’s lip quivers as the vague memories rush through his mind, each mirrored with an ache in his body. “Tolya, that was too many,” he whines. “They were rough…”

“And yet here you are,” Anatoli chuckles. “Everyone left satisfied and I’m very pleased with you.”

Brock wants to argue, wants to get up and look at the bruises that he’s sure are covering him, wants to insist that Anatoli can’t do that to him again… But Anatoli’s kissing his forehead again, and Brock can’t do anything but sigh as those lips make their way down to his own.

“You just need to rest,” Anatoli murmurs. “I know those drugs make your head hurt, but you’ll feel better once you’re hydrated.”

Brock just huffs, curling into Anatoli’s chest, away from the bright lights of the room. Anatoli chuckles, stroking his back gently.

“Come on, you can stay in bed all day, but you do need to eat and drink, alright?”

“Alright,” Brock mumbles, letting Anatoli nudge him onto his back again. He finds that there’s a whole breakfast spread laid out next to him, which Anatoli feeds him by hand, piece by piece, until he whines that he’s full and sleepy. Anatoli nods, and lets him tuck himself back under the blankets.

“You should have more faith in me, _miliy_ ,” he murmurs, as Brock curls up to him. “I never give you more than you can handle, and I’m proud of you for doing so well.”

Brock just shrugs, letting drowsiness wash over him. He’s warm and clean and fed, which is more than he could ever say for himself before he met Anatoli. And with his Tolya is here to comfort him, maybe all the rest is better forgiven and forgotten.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at moonsofavalon.tumblr.com


End file.
